Years of Devotion, A Lifetime of Betrayal

Years of Devotion, A Lifetime of Betrayal

Gavin

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"Maya, we need to talk about the Nova Fellowship." Ethan's voice was smooth, but his eyes held a look I knew well before he asked for something big. The final interviews for my dream fellowship were just next week. He sighed, running a hand through his perfect brown hair, then dropped the bombshell: Chloe, the Harrisons' "lost" daughter, suddenly wanted to apply. I stared, my heart pounding, realizing the application deadline had passed months ago, and Chloe knew nothing of astrophysics. He quickly explained they were making an exception for Chloe due to "hardship," courtesy of the Harrisons' pulled strings. A cold feeling started in my stomach when he gently suggested I withdraw my application for "family goodwill." He squeezed my hands, urging me to "give Chloe a fair shot" because she was "fragile." I pulled my hands away, reminding him this fellowship was my entire future. He insisted I'd find other opportunities, painting my sacrifice as a "gesture for family." His words felt like cotton, trying to smother the fire of my lifelong dream. He believed this was reasonable, that I should sacrifice everything for a girl he barely knew, who had appeared out of nowhere. My carefully built world, with Ethan at its center, felt like it was tilting, as I realized I was just in the way. Then, he left me stranded in a furious Nor'easter, sick and alone, rushing off to comfort Chloe's "panic attack." Weeks later, the Harrisons, with Ethan's complicity, publicly branded me a plagiarist, expelled me from Blackwood, and stole my groundbreaking dark matter algorithm. I saw Chloe presenting my life's work as her own, celebrated as a "rising star." My reputation was in ruins, my academic dreams destroyed, my love for Ethan shattered into a million pieces. How could Ethan, the man I loved, betray me for an imposter, and why did the family treat me as expendable after years of devotion? Publicly shamed, injured in an angry crowd, I truly hit rock bottom, lying feverish and abandoned in a hospital bed. Just as despair threatened to consume me, I remembered the private investigator's card, tucked away in my wallet, leading to the biological family I thought were dead. That night, lying shattered and alone, I reached for my phone, found the investigator's number, and made the call to choose myself and reclaim my life.

Introduction

"Maya, we need to talk about the Nova Fellowship."

Ethan's voice was smooth, but his eyes held a look I knew well before he asked for something big.

The final interviews for my dream fellowship were just next week.

He sighed, running a hand through his perfect brown hair, then dropped the bombshell: Chloe, the Harrisons' "lost" daughter, suddenly wanted to apply.

I stared, my heart pounding, realizing the application deadline had passed months ago, and Chloe knew nothing of astrophysics.

He quickly explained they were making an exception for Chloe due to "hardship," courtesy of the Harrisons' pulled strings.

A cold feeling started in my stomach when he gently suggested I withdraw my application for "family goodwill."

He squeezed my hands, urging me to "give Chloe a fair shot" because she was "fragile."

I pulled my hands away, reminding him this fellowship was my entire future.

He insisted I'd find other opportunities, painting my sacrifice as a "gesture for family."

His words felt like cotton, trying to smother the fire of my lifelong dream.

He believed this was reasonable, that I should sacrifice everything for a girl he barely knew, who had appeared out of nowhere.

My carefully built world, with Ethan at its center, felt like it was tilting, as I realized I was just in the way.

Then, he left me stranded in a furious Nor'easter, sick and alone, rushing off to comfort Chloe's "panic attack."

Weeks later, the Harrisons, with Ethan's complicity, publicly branded me a plagiarist, expelled me from Blackwood, and stole my groundbreaking dark matter algorithm.

I saw Chloe presenting my life's work as her own, celebrated as a "rising star."

My reputation was in ruins, my academic dreams destroyed, my love for Ethan shattered into a million pieces.

How could Ethan, the man I loved, betray me for an imposter, and why did the family treat me as expendable after years of devotion?

Publicly shamed, injured in an angry crowd, I truly hit rock bottom, lying feverish and abandoned in a hospital bed.

Just as despair threatened to consume me, I remembered the private investigator's card, tucked away in my wallet, leading to the biological family I thought were dead.

That night, lying shattered and alone, I reached for my phone, found the investigator's number, and made the call to choose myself and reclaim my life.

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Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

Fake Amnesia, Real Betrayal

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The call came at 7:05 PM on our tenth wedding anniversary. My husband, David, was in an accident. At the hospital, he was awake, but a young woman, his assistant Chloe, was holding his hand, acting like his wife. When I walked in, he looked at me, a blank stranger' s stare, then asked, "Who are you?" He laughed when I said I was his wife, then demanded security remove me, while Chloe, smiling, pretended to cry. It wasn't just memory loss; it was a cruel, targeted erasure. I tried proof, the marriage certificate, but he pushed it away as "just a piece of paper." Then Chloe waltzed in with his favorite soup, and he defended her when I confronted her. "She' s the only one who' s been here for me!" he screamed. He snarled that I was "exhausted, haggard," compared to Chloe, who was "kind and gentle." My wedding ring, a symbol of our forever, flew from my hand as he slapped it away, clinking under the bed. "Don' t come back," he said, turning his back on me to comfort Chloe. Later, I learned why: he had been having an affair with Chloe, his mother's 65th birthday ruined by his absence and her answering his phone. My world shattered when Mark Johnson, David's estranged best friend, told me what David said: "The fake amnesia was a stroke of genius, right? A clean break." My husband had faked a brain injury to throw me away. A car hit me, sending me to the hospital, and I knew what I had to do. When Mark came in, I looked at him, my face blank, then asked, "Are you… my husband?"

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